Valentines Day Antics
by PaperbackPeace
Summary: Sorry. This is one whole day late, but my internet was down, so just imagine this is valentines day and read :) NON-SLASH yay! Paul is really besotted with this random delivery woman so the boys have to 'save' him in ... an interesting fashion. Short but ... well it's fine. And it's Beatles, not ATU :D Oh and rated for homophobic terms maybe? Just in case.


_Ding-dong…_

The doorbell chimed, resounding through the hallway of the house, echoing down the stairs, between the crack in the doors and into the shared bedroom of Mr's John, Paul, George and Ringo, worming its way into their ears and attempting to interrupt their … interesting dreams. But they continued to snore.

_Ding-dong…_

Though loud, the echoes proved to be no match for the deep slumber the boys were trapped in, unable to wake them from their sleep, unable to shake them from their reveries, and all the noise did was to make the youngest turn in his bed, and the bassist curl slightly further in on himself. It did _not _wake _anyone _up.

_DING-DONG-DING-DONG-DING-DONG!_

'Alright! Alright! Don't break the _door _down, God, Brian would _kill _us!'

This time the incessant ringing actually did something, as John Lennon yelled into his pillow and Ringo blinked his discomfort to the world. Paul turned over as George Harrison stuffed his hands over his ears and grumbled and the door started to suffer a thousand hammerings from the person outside.

_Ding-dong! Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. _

'George!' John's face was still rammed into his pillow, though he was now very much awake. 'Get the door won't you?'

Paul snorted as the aforementioned guitarist moaned once more and mumbled some muffled expletive into his own cushion, which he now pulled even further over his head, so as to prevent his speaking.

'George-'

'_You're _awake…'

'No I'm _not_.'

'Well then I'm not either.'

John snarled into his bed, probably realising that his youngest friend wasn't going to move. 'Copycat.'

'Well?'

**Ding. Dong.**

'Paul!'

Paul's face visibly fell. 'What, Lennon?'

'Get the door.'

'…No…'

'_Get the door_.'

'Nope.'

'Paul, get the door, or I'll tell everyone you curl your eyelashes.'

This silenced the bassist for a second, before – 'I don't _curl _my-'

'_Paul_!'

'I'm …'

'JUST GET THE DOOR!'

Paul sighed resignedly, before peeling the covers off himself and sitting up in bed, frowning. 'I don't have any clothes on.'

John smirked. 'You have a t-shirt and boxers, that's enough. Now GO!'

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-DONG!_

'It's ok, you can _shut up now_. Paul's coming!' This merited a snigger from George and Ringo, and a roll of the eyes from Paul, but he walked over to the door, opened it, sighing –

And stared …

Back in the bedroom, the three remaining Beatles had failed to get back to sleep, and were contemplating Paul's departure.

'He's been gone a long time, hasn't he?' This was Ringo, who had sat up in bed and was eying the doorway with suspicion.

'Maybe he's been kidnapped?'

'It that a sense of _hopefulness _I detect in your voice, young Harrison?'

'No. I was just saying –'

'He was too big-headed anyway,' John stated, steam-rolling over George's earlier comment with apparent ease. 'It was coming to him.'

'Guys …'

'It's a curse actually, isn't it?' John continued, rolling over in his bed to stare up at the ceiling, a grin lighting his tired face. 'The curse of the bassists. First Stu and now Paulie, oh the _hardships_. We'll just have to find another one, lads.'

'I think you're being _far _too optimistic about this John-'

'Nonsense Richard. I am merely being truthful. In fact there's nothing else for it; we shall have to find another bassist, it's the only solution –'

'Ok, I'm going out to look for him.'

'You'll only hurt yourself!'

'Shut it, John.'

And Ringo up and left the room, leaving rhythm and lead guitarist still in bed, contemplating bassists and all things replacement.

But nearing the front door, he swore he could hear talking, a nervous giggle (though a very masculine one at that) and upon reaching the hallway, he saw quite clearly against the glow of morning light, the outline of Paul McCartney. And behind that, an awful lot of red …

He approached, slowing slightly at the realisation that Paul had _not _in fact been kidnapped, and was perfectly alright, save for the fact that he appeared to be staring very,_ very _intently at something. Or someone, because there _was _someone else there. Someone wearing red, like the … wait, were they … presents?

Now Ringo was at the door, and the person Paul was staring at (she was a woman – and a very beautiful one at that) turned her attention to him, smiling slightly as she bopped her head in a nod of acceptance. 'And you must be Ringo Starr?'

Ringo grinned amusedly. Her voice was low and smooth, and he could see immediately why Paul was so entranced by her, though she was not his type. 'Yes. Hello. I just came to see what was taking so long with Paul, but I can see now. Is this for us?' He gestured to the objects behind her to dissipate the awkwardness of Paul staring at her and her waiting for his answer.

She smiled and Ringo swore he saw Paul melt slightly; he put his hand on his friends shoulder just in case Paul felt like fainting or something else the girls at their concerts did when it all got too much for them which Ringo didn't know much about, but sympathised for. 'Yup, I was just telling Paul here,' and at this point she lowered her voice and looked at the aforementioned individual over perfectly shaped eyebrows, making him practically moan, 'that that's a lot of female admirers you've got there. Maybe too many, in fact.'

Ringo forced another smile, and waited for Paul to say something witty, charming, but there was just a silence in which the woman waited and Paul _gawped._ That was the only word for it, gawped, because that's what he was doing; staring at her like a guppy fish, all gormless and … well, Ringo hated to say it, but vulnerable. The girl winked at the bassist in the second it took for Ringo to think up something to say in Paul's place and suddenly, he felt a lot of dead weight pressing upon his supporting arm as his friend continued to stare and stare and stare and now Ringo felt like he needed the others, he really, _really _needed the others to sort the boy out; Paul was in way too deep with a (very attractive) delivery service woman and he needed to _stop staring._

The same thought seemed to have hit George, who was now sitting up in bed and pulling a pair of black trousers over his boxers, much to John's amusement.

'You may need to stand up, son.'

'Shut up. I'm going to see where the others got to.'

John snorted. 'They're both dead, I'm telling you. Don't risk it.'

'Are these _survival t_ips from John Lennon?'

A muffled yawn. 'It's my new career. Get used to it.'

'What about the _Beatles_?'

'With two of our members _dead_ I doubt we're going to be much of a hit anymore, are we? Even if they _are_ the less attractive two …'

George laughed. 'You're a lazy git. I'm going to see what's keeping them.'

'Don't say I didn't warn you…'

'See ya John.'

'Good luck Harrison.'

A snort from the youngest band member as he left the room, venturing down the hall to where he could _see _Paul and Ringo standing in the doorway, talking to someone. He saw Paul slump into Ringo's hand, leaving a gap through which George could see a lot of red … red parcels. Well that was a change. They hardly _ever g_ot presents. Although one of them could be a bomb …

'Y'alright there Paul?'

The bassist turned slightly to acknowledge his younger friend, and George noticed a slightly … dazed look in the man's eyes which he'd never really seen before. He wondered what was wrong as he approached the doorway, and …

And laid eyes on possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and, he realised, the subject of Paul's attention for so long. He turned to look at Ringo, who just smirked at him and jerked his head back at Paul and George realised his older friend was unabashedly staring at the woman in the doorway, with an expression of adulation and … something George couldn't quite put his finger on. Was is lust? He didn't know, but Paul looked quite lost as the woman smiled brightly at George and held out a hand. 'You're George Harrison, yes? I'm just here to deliver your Valentine's Day gifts, but I got,' she laughed. 'A little bit side-tracked with your friends. Sorry. I'll bring them in now.'

George nodded at her, suppressing a chuckle at Paul's puppy-dog face. 'Ok. I'll just go get John. He can help.'

The woman smiled a little more, and George thought he could hear Paul sigh, just a bit. 'That would be great, thank you. I'd like to meet him.'

'Yeah,' George called over his shoulder, halfway down the hallway back to the bedroom where John was already pulling on a pair of jeans and a nice woollen jumper, smiling widely.

'I heard talking.'

'Yeah. You might want to come and see. Paul's –'

John grinned. 'Is there a girl?'

'Yes, that's the problem. Paul's –'

'Is she hot?'

'Yes, very John. Now listen. Paul's –'

'How hot?'

'_Too _hot. Paul's staring.'

John blinked. 'What?'

This merited a grin from the lead guitarist. 'He's staring right at her. _Very _intently. He's _staring_.'

John began to laugh. 'Staring? How did I not see this?'

'Come on then. It's a spectacle, I swear.'

'Okay.'

And John followed George out the room and down the corridor to where Paul and Ringo … or rather _just _Ringo … were helping the lady unpack the mountain of red presents into the house. He grinned. 'You weren't lying when you said she was hot George.'

'Naw, I know. Now look at Paulie.'

And John began to laugh at the look of complete and utter yearning on the bassists face as he watched his friend and the delivery woman unpack the boxes into the living room and took absolutely no notice of the arrival of George and John. The woman, however, turned. 'Oh! It's John Lennon!'

Paul blinked as she set down the box she was holding and stepped over to the aforementioned musician, holding out her hand and letting him shake it. John smiled. 'Ten out of ten, well done. You're beautiful, by the way.'

The girl giggled, all pretence of sultriness gone and Ringo could swear he saw Paul's eyes widen slightly, and his mouth drop a little more. He grinned, though at the same time he couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for the boy.

'Thank you. You're not so bad yourself, you know.'

Paul blinked again and cleared his throat, in what he hoped was an _inconspicuous, _sexy manner: why are you talking to him when you could be talking to me? Something like that, something he was used to. But contrary to his intentions it came out all choked, and when everyone's attention turned to him, he could only turn a bright, bright red and cough out an embarrassed 'sorry' to all those watching whilst trying to ignore George's close to hysteric giggles at his … unfortunate predicament. Because oh God. This had never happened before. The girl just winked, making him flush even more, and suddenly he felt all hot and sweaty and a bit light-headed and maybe … maybe she still thought he was _cute_. Perhaps not _hot _anymore, but cute would do, wouldn't it? Cute would do.

John saw the wink directed at his poor friend's bright red form and took the decision upon himself that perhaps this _woman _wasn't the best option for him. He'd let her walk over him. He'd break his back for her. And John didn't want that for Paul. He wanted him to get a nice girl he could love and who would love him back, not someone so hot they'd burn him the second he tried to get close. And he _would _take action. With Ringo though, because George, by the state of his laughter, didn't look as though he was giving Paul an awful lot of sympathy for the ultimate broken heart he would be sporting after this girl was done with him. John smirked. Paul would thank his best friends, after he'd got over it. Hopefully …

'Ringo?' The grinning drummer looked up as his name was called and John beckoned to him to come over. 'Can I talk to you? For a second?'

The eldest Beatle nodded. 'Sure. You coming too George?'

George's head bopped up and down and the two men followed John back into their bedroom where he sat them down and began to smile, adopting a very serious, very British accent.

'Let's talk about Paul.'

George began to giggle. 'He's a bit … obvious, isn't he?'

Ringo smiled. 'I think –'

'I don't _like h_er.'

George frowned at John's comment, wrinkling his eyebrows together so they formed a thick line along his forehead. 'No, me neither. Actually, I think she prefers you John.'

Ringo laughed. 'Yes, I agree. Did you see her?'

'No,' John dead-panned.

'Ha ha. John this is serious.'

'I _know.'_

George snorted. 'He's probably still ogling her now.'

'Yes. Which is why we must _act_.'

'How?' A frown from the eldest.

'Well she doesn't _really l_ike him, does she?'

'No.'

'So let's just tell her he's queer with Brian. That should scare her off pretty quickly.'

George wrinkled his eyebrows together again. 'But he's _not _queer with Brian.'

'But we could _tell h_er that.'

'_Why?'_

'To _scare her off_. Weren't you listening?'

George sighed, turned to Ringo who nodded, before looking back to the rhythm guitarist. 'John, he's going to kill us.'

'We'll be helping him in the long run.'

'John-'

John frowned. 'We'll be helping him _in the long run_.'

'Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.' Ringo grinned. 'I'm not sure Paul will be able to see the bigger picture until _after _he's brutally murdered us with every single murder weapon you can imagine. In fact, even then, I doubt he'll feel _particularly _guilty. But okay.'

'You'll help?'

'Yup.'

'And George?'

'…Ok. But I'm blaming you if he shouts at me.'

John clapped his hands together. 'Glad to know we've got someone loyal on our side. Come on then.'

'We're doing it now?'

'When else?' Was the chirpy reply. And John flung open the doors of the bedroom to the living room and all three pairs of eyes fell on Paul blushing like nothing else and the woman smiling suggestively at him. John exchanged a pointed nod with the others before walking up to both of them.

'Hey Paulie?' He clicked his fingers in front of the bassists face to get his attention, trying to suppress his creeping grin.

'Yeah?'

'Uh, Brian said he … was looking forward to tonight. With you.'

Paul blinked. '… what?'

'Your _boyfriend_.' That was George.

Paul's eyes widened at the same time as the girl stood up. 'What did you say?'

'Paul's boyfriend, Brian Epstein. Don't you know him?'

'He's _queer_?' The woman looked disgusted. 'Queer?'

Ringo nodded, staring at Paul all the time. 'But you can't tell anyone. It'll get us all in trouble. You can't tell _anyone._ Do you swear?'

The girl nodded as Paul too stood up. 'Wait … wait, I'm not – I'm _not, _what are you … I'm _not _!' He turned to his other bandmates. 'What are you _doing_?'

'We're just passing on Brian's message Paulie.' This was George again, with a purely angelic look on his face as he smiled at Paul through eyes which said sorry but a mouth that suggested he wasn't. 'He sounded really excited. On the phone.'

Paul snarled. 'George… I'm _not queer with Brian_.' He turned back to the girl. 'Pl…Please, I'm … I'm _not _a queer. I'm not. I swear. They're just lying, because they're jealous. Please.'

But she backed away. 'Why would they be jealous? I was never _with_ you. _Queer… _ugh. I … that's disgusting.' She turned to the rest of the group. 'And I suppose you're all queer too, yes?'

The others shook their heads as Paul stared on with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, though for a completely different reason this time than the delivery service.

'Right. Ok then. Well I'm off. Nice meeting you.'

And she picked up her discarded coat and stalked out the house.

There was a brief moment of silence in which Paul's face grew progressively redder and the others looked upon him in trepidation, waiting for the blow. Then-

'_WHY DID YOU TELL HER I WAS QUEER?' _echoed through the streets of Liverpool, and John tried to refrain from hiding behind a settee as Paul advanced with stormy eyes and a _massive _frown.

'It was John's idea!' George was quick to point out that it wasn't his fault and John took the time to glare at him, just for an excuse to look at something _other _than the thunderous face of Paul McCartney.

'Not _just _my idea … it wasn't just _me…_' John blinked. 'C'mon Paul, be reasonable here. It was for your own good.'

'For my own _good?_ You're an absolute moron, you know that? The lot of you. My own _good_?'

'Paul, you were _besotted_,' Ringo pleaded from the corner. 'It wasn't good for _you_.'

Paul ran a hand over his face. 'It was _love. _Not idiocy. Not naivety. I was in _love._'

George began to laugh. 'You weren't _in love_ Paul. You were staring.'

'It was love.' And he sat down on the sofa and rested his head against the pillow, sighing. 'Love.'

'Don't be a drama queen Paul. It wasn't.' George sat down beside him and did the same, looking at his older friend with a smile and a frown at the same time.

'Yeah.' This was Ringo. 'We're helping you _in the long run_, as John persisted in reiterating.'

'The long run.' Paul grinned despite his … dampened spirits. 'So. Are these Valentines presents?' He gestured to the mass of red objects littering the floor.

John laughed. 'Trust _Paul McCartney_ to remember Valentine's Day.' He adopted an American accent, put on a high voice. 'How _romantic._'

The boys laughed, all of them, including the bassist himself, as he picked up a gift and read the label. _Dear Paul. Happy Valentine's Day. Love from Mitchie. _He grinned. 'I bet they're all for me.'

Ringo sighed, rolled his eyes. 'Hasn't lost his ego, I see.'

Paul smiled. 'I'd guard my ego with my life Ringsy.'

THE END.


End file.
